Ludwig decided not to waste more time in the capital.

The Shrike had escaped. Van Dijk had already taken pursuit. The Emperor had his Tower Masters, his priests, his embarrassed sons, and enough political rot to keep the palace choking for weeks. None of that needed Ludwig standing in the corner pretending he understood the civilized art of waiting.

The Fourth Princess was cursed.

The answer, or at least the nearest thing to one, was in the forest of the elves.

So Ludwig went.

The imperial teleportation gate carried him to the western borders of the Empire, leaving behind marble halls, alarms, royal smiles, and marriage proposals he was pretending had not happened. The air changed the moment he arrived. The capital’s polished stone and human pressure gave way to colder border wind, damp earth, and the deep green smell of old forest. Beyond the fortified outpost, the elven woods stretched wide and ancient, a sea of towering trunks and woven shadows where the Empire’s roads ended politely before things older than emperors began.

Ludwig stepped beyond the border markers and entered the forest.

The path was familiar.

Not in the normal way. He had not walked it enough for habit to form, and the elven forest was not the sort of place that liked being understood by outsiders. Roots shifted where they pleased. Branches leaned across trails as if listening. Moss covered stones that had not been there before. The air held whispers too faint to be language and too deliberate to be wind.

Yet as Ludwig walked, the trees moved for him.

Just like before.

Trunks widened their spacing by slow degrees. Branches lifted. Vines withdrew from the path, curling away from his boots. A narrow road, barely more than earth remembering footsteps, opened through the green darkness. Sunlight fell in thin shafts between leaves, catching motes of pollen and small drifting petals that had no obvious source. The forest was not welcoming, exactly. That word felt too warm. It was allowing him passage.

That was enough.

Ludwig kept walking, one hand resting near his side out of habit. He did not call out. He did not announce himself to the elven border patrols he knew were probably watching him from somewhere above, behind, or inside the greenery. The forest had its own rules, and shouting into it felt like asking to become fertilizer.

After some time, the trees opened.

The clearing ahead was quiet.

Too quiet.

Then the air grew fangs.

A massive creature manifested from nothing directly in front of Ludwig’s face.

There was no dramatic descent from the sky, no thunderous beating of wings, no earth-shaking entrance that warned lesser creatures to kneel. One moment, the clearing held empty air and shafts of green light. The next, a dragon’s head filled the world.

Mossy scales overlapped like ancient armor across its vast face. Wooden horns twisted from its skull, branching slightly at the tips like living antlers shaped by centuries of memory. Vines hung from parts of its neck, flowers blooming between scales as if the forest itself had chosen to grow upon him. Its eyes were deep, old, and utterly inhuman, the color of jade seen beneath water.

No one could have mistaken it for anything but a dragon.

The Sylvan Sage.

Ur’Thal.

"You have returned," the dragon said, voice rolling through the clearing like roots shifting beneath the earth, "one with a heart of anger."

Ludwig did not flinch, which was either courage or the steady erosion of good survival instincts after years of meeting beings that could flatten him with one bad mood.

"Good to see you again, Ur’Thal."

The dragon’s enormous eye narrowed.

"You even learned this one’s name."

"I try to be polite."

Ur’Thal raised its head slightly. The motion was slow, but the threat behind it was not. The clearing darkened beneath the shadow of its jaw. "Tell me... your eyes, your crown. You have slain two more."

Ludwig said nothing.

The dragon’s gaze deepened. "Indeed. A powerful minion of Necros."

"I know you have beef with Necros," Ludwig said, "but calling me a minion is a bit rude."

"What are you if not a minion?" Ur’Thal asked. "A strong minion, nevertheless. But still one moving beneath the shadow of Death."

"I make my own bad decisions, thank you."

"A claim common among those who serve powers greater than themselves."

Ludwig sighed. "I missed this. Ancient wisdom that sounds like an insult if I listen too closely."

The dragon’s nostrils flared, and the leaves around the clearing trembled. "What brings you back to the land of the elves?"

"Well," Ludwig said, "I have a few things to take care of here."

"The friend you left behind."

"Yeah. It’s been a while since I last saw Thomas. I should check on him." Ludwig tilted his head slightly. "But I also have business with you."

"Speak your mind."

"What do you know of a Black Dragon’s Curse?"

The clearing changed.

It was not dramatic. No roar. No sudden burst of power. But the forest seemed to stop pretending to be alive for a breath. Leaves stilled. Insects fell silent. The faint motion of vines around Ur’Thal’s neck slowed until they looked carved into him.

The dragon closed one eye.

"Ah," Ur’Thal said. "The time has come then."

Ludwig frowned.

That was not the reaction of someone surprised by a question. That was the reaction of someone hearing a bell they had expected for a long time.

"You were expecting this?"

"The Black Dragon Karnak has brought ruin to many kingdoms," Ur’Thal said. "Greedy. Vindictive. Hateful beyond the common measure of dragons, which is already a high and unfortunate measure. You should beware. It is not something you can handle right now."

"I’ve been fighting demigods for the past few years," Ludwig said. "I think I can handle a dragon."

Ur’Thal’s gaze lowered back to him.

The weight of it pinned the clearing.

"You have beaten things that thought of you as lesser," the dragon said. "This one will not."

Ludwig’s expression tightened. "I don’t understand."

"All those you took from," Ur’Thal said. "Their heart, their eye, their crown. They believed themselves above you. They believed victory was the natural order, that you were an insect granted the illusion of struggle before being crushed. Their arrogance gave you cracks to enter."

Ur’Thal’s voice deepened. "Karnak will not offer you the same gift. His Greed is endless, boundless, and all-encompassing. It does not merely desire gold or land or flesh. It covets advantage. It covets safety. It covets all things that may become useful. It will not risk loss for pride. It will not fight fairly for honor. It will not expose itself because it believes itself untouchable. It will covet what you have, and it will do all in its power to obtain it."

A chill moved through Ludwig that had nothing to do with the forest air.

Then the notification appeared.

[You have received a clue about the Greedful Death!]

Ludwig stared at it.

"Oh shit," he said. "Just my luck. It’s one of the Sins."

Ur’Thal’s eye narrowed. "Sins?"

"Yes. Sin of Greed. The Greedful Death." Ludwig rubbed a hand down his face. "Damn. Another usurper added to my list."

"No," Ur’Thal said.

Ludwig paused.

The dragon lowered its head again. "It is not."

Ludwig looked up at him.

"Not yet, at least."

The words settled slowly.

Ludwig replayed the notification in his mind. A clue. It had said clue. It had not named Karnak as the Greedful Death. It had not declared him an Usurper, not fully. Just a hint. A direction. A scent of something worse waiting beneath the shape of a dragon.

"Right," Ludwig muttered. "Right. Then what is he?"

"A candidate," Ur’Thal said. "A vessel with the proper hunger. A ruin that may ripen into something far worse if left unchallenged. Such things do not always become what they are suited to become, but Karnak has long walked close to that abyss."

"Wonderful."

"The word is inaccurate."

"It usually is."

Ur’Thal watched him. "For what reason do you seek your own demise?"

"A friend of mine is afflicted with a Black Dragon’s Curse."

"You do not need to seek Karnak if you wish to lift said curse."

Ludwig’s attention sharpened immediately. "Oh. Do you have a way to remove it? I’d appreciate that."

"It is something that you, of all beings, should already be able to understand and know."

"I’m at a loss."

Ur’Thal sighed.

It was a strange sound from a dragon. Not human annoyance, but something older, like an entire grove bending under wind.

"It frightens me how thoughtless your kind is," Ur’Thal said, "yet you wield such powers."

"I get that a lot."

"A curse cannot be removed," the dragon said. "It can only be lifted."

"That’s kind of the basic of curses."

"But if something is lifted, it has to come down."

Ludwig stared at him.

Ur’Thal stared back.

The silence stretched.

Ludwig frowned harder. "You’re doing the ancient being thing again."

"I am explaining."

"You’re implying."

"The difference is effort."

"That was almost funny."

"For you, perhaps."

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. If something is lifted, it has to come down. Meaning?"

"Find a way to do the second part, and the first part will be done."

Ludwig thought about it.

Then his expression flattened.

"You need another person to take on the curse."

"As simple as that."

"That is not simple," Ludwig said. "That is morally horrifying with extra steps."

"Many cures are."

"So to lift the curse from her, another person has to carry it."

Ur’Thal’s eyes glimmered faintly. "Princess of the Lufondal kingdom Celest."

Ludwig paused. "Damn. How did you know?"

"I am one with nature," Ur’Thal said. "And that person has been away from nature for a while."

"Yeah, well, the Emperor won’t like that."

"Hubris will reveal itself in your Empire," the dragon said. "It always does when men with crowns discover that law cannot command consequence."

Ludwig looked away for a moment.

The solution was ugly. Find someone else. Put the curse on them. The princess wakes, another body sleeps. Perhaps a criminal. Perhaps someone condemned. Perhaps someone willing. Perhaps some poor fool forced into mercy by people who had enough power to call sacrifice duty.

No.

That route smelled like a door that opened into rot.

"What’s the second option?" Ludwig asked.

"Destroy the medium that made the curse."

"And that must be the dragon himself."

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"I do not know."

Ludwig looked at him sharply.

Ur’Thal did not blink. "If Karnak has chosen to hide, not even Necros could find him."

"Damn," Ludwig said under his breath.

That explained too much.

No wonder Karnak was a candidate for Greed. Not because he hoarded treasure like a storybook dragon, but because he hoarded survival itself. He hid advantage. Hid his body. Hid his risks. Hid from Death. A thing that wanted everything and risked nothing was far more dangerous than a proud monster waiting on a throne.

"No wonder," Ludwig said. "A candidate for the Greedful Death. An Usurper Candidate."

Ur’Thal’s head shifted slightly, turning past Ludwig toward the deeper forest.

"You will have company soon."

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder, but saw only trees.

"I shall remove myself from here," the dragon said. "Good luck on your quest, young undead who is not an undead."

"That title keeps getting more specific."

"It must. You keep becoming less simple."

Ludwig nodded once. "Thank you, Ur’Thal."

The dragon watched him for a final moment. Then its vast body began to loosen into green light, petals, and leaves. Mossy scales separated into drifting fragments. Wooden horns became branches, then blossoms, then nothing. The massive head dissolved into a swirl of flower petals that lifted around Ludwig and scattered across the clearing, carried by a wind that had not existed a moment before.

When the last petal vanished, the forest breathed again.

Behind Ludwig, leaves rustled.

A band of elves in green robes emerged from between the trees.

They moved lightly, bows and curved blades visible beneath their cloaks, their eyes fixed on him with the wary stillness of people who had arrived just late enough to know something ancient had been present and just early enough to blame him for it.

Ludwig turned toward them.

"Hello," he said. "I’m guessing this is the part where everyone acts tense."